Versions of Fate
by Sela McGrane
Summary: In another version of the fates, Hermione was the teacher, and Minerva was the student. How different would things have been if Hermione had been born in 1935, and Minerva had been the third part of the Golden Trio?
1. Chapter 1

**For the record, Lost Founder followers, I am still working on that. My big problem is that I need to have Hogwarts completely mapped out before I start really writing the rest of the series if I wish to avoid JKR's mistakes *cough* inconsistencies *cough*, which I'm OCD enough to really want to avoid. That is quite time consuming, but I am working on it. Meanwhile, a certain Gryffindor posted a prompt about an old song by the Police, and as much as I was like "nope, don't do the thing!" - the plot bunnies attacked and there is no way in hell this is going to be a one shot. I'm just taking it one chapter at a time, but I hope all enjoy some fresh HG/MM. Special thanks to my Beta (CherriiMarina) who regularly saves me and you from a mass of spelling errors and other grammar related issues. Also, from my tenancy to think faster than I can type and leave out words entirely.**

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Brown eyes shifted restlessly under closed eyelids, lost in a dream. In the Hogwarts Professor's mind, it was nineteen seventy-two, rather than nineteen ninety-eight, and her heart was about to be well and truly broken. A seventeen year old Narcissa Black strode purposefully into the kitchen of a small cottage in Hogsmeade, surprising the brunette owner. "Cissa, aren't you supposed to be in Potions class right now?" she asked, with a small, mischievous grin.

Narcissa wasn't amused, nor did she look interested in snogging her mediwitch friend turned romantic interest, which was very much the norm. "Sod class," the young woman snapped. "My parents have promised me to that arrogant prat, Lucius Malfoy! Hermione, I wish we had the time to keep dancing around each other but I know I'm not alone in how I feel - I'm in love with you just as much as you're in love with me, and if you were ever going to do something about that, now would be the bloody time!"

Hermione Granger frowned, repressing the urge to apparate directly to the manor home Narcissa's parents lived in and give them a piece of her mind. Narcissa wasn't wrong; Hermione was in love with the recently of age girl, though in her integrity's defence, while they did spend time together socially as often as they could manage, they had never before right now discussed what was obviously building between them, much less acted on that feeling. "Cissa… it's probably best that you…" she began forcing a rejection out, the words feeling like acid on her tongue.

Tears began cascading down the blonde's cheeks. "Gods, please don't tell me to marry him. I love you! I want _you_!"

"What we want and what is right are not always the same thing," Hermione said softly. "Though I will not insult you by saying I do not feel much the same as yourself, at the end of the day it's too great a risk. Your parents could kill you for being with me. I'm much older. I'm a _woman_. For the love of Merlin, dearest, I am _muggleborn_!"

"They didn't kill Andromeda for running off with Ted Tonks!" Narcissa countered.

"Ted Tonks was male, and age appropriate."

"But…"

"And more to the important point, your sister and her husband are being protected by secret keeper and the Fidelus," Hermione kept on. "Cissa, please, it breaks my heart to turn you down but it would destroy me if something happened to you! Irony of ironies, you're safer if you marry a damn Death Eater!"

Narcissa let out a ragged breath, and wiped her tears on the sleeve of her school robes. "One condition, and I will do what you ask."

Hermione braced herself for whatever her favorite Slytherin was about to demand, knowing full well how utterly unable she'd be to deny _this_ request. She'd do anything to keep Cissa safe. Anything at all. "Name it."

"Become a teacher up at the school," the blonde stated crisply. "This isn't just about me. If I marry Malfoy, I'll have to… have a child for him. My child will be raised by a Death Eater, and that is not the life I want for my future son or daughter. I need you there, at Hogwarts, to look after them, and guide them right… to teach them what you taught me; that my opinion matters. Even if I cannot always have what I wish for, I still know that my opinion matters."

Hermione thought about the rigorous hours she was keeping at St. Mungo's, in addition to the work she did for the newly formed Order of the Phoenix. Albus wanted an Order member here in Hogsmeade, and she was one of the few in the Order who could duel worth a damn and stood a chance of protecting the students should there be an attack. She'd been assigned here two years prior, which was how she'd met Narcissa in the first place. Hermione did not think it would take much to convince Albus to let her take up a post at Hogwarts, as soon as one became available. "Alright," the thirty-seven year old witch agreed. "I can do that."

Narcissa nodded. "I guess this is goodbye then. If this is all about staying safe… Malfoy has eyes in the school and I don't want him to see you as a threat. If you're certain this is the right thing to do, then I cannot keep seeing you."

"Then it's goodbye," Hermione choked out.

Narcissa nodded, and turned to leave. Her hand was on the handle before she paused. "Oh, fuck it," she swore, turning around and bolting into Hermione's arms, lips crashing together in a decidedly passionate first and last kiss. Nothing was said as the kiss ended, and with one final smile at each other - a silent promise to remember this one moment - the younger woman turned and walked away.

As the door closed, Hermione sank to the ground in front of her kitchen sink and sobbed violently, eventually passing out on the floor where she woke as the sun came up the next morning. She picked herself up, took a quick shower, and then sent an Owl to Albus with a request to be put on the staff at Hogwarts, citing truthfully that she was exhausted trying to live in Scotland and work in London, and how she'd be better able to protect students if they already knew that she could be trusted. The following September, months after Narcissa Black graduated and mere weeks after she married Lucius Malfoy, Hermione Granger took up the Defence Against the Dark Arts post at Hogwarts, swearing on her parents' graves that if she did nothing else right in her life, she'd keep her promise to Narcissa.

In the present, the now tenured Professor Granger woke with a start to the sound of her godson poking around in the kitchen, cursing up a storm over how one of his good friends, Draco Malfoy, had gotten him good and sloshed the night before and how he was never going to forgive the young Slytherin for the hangover he was now suffering. Hermione rose, and quickly dressed before heading out of her bedroom to see what her godson and ward, Harry Potter, was going on about.

"You know, yelling at the kitchen will neither improve your hangover, nor help you find the coffee," she commented.

"Well I wouldn't have any problems at all if you'd just let me use magic here. I'm of age!" Harry griped at her long standing rule of no magic in their quarters. While decidedly planted in the Wizarding community, Hermione liked to keep her personal quarters, her _home_ , very much Muggle out of a sense of respect for her long deceased parents. Gods, she was older now than they'd been when they died! She'd be sixty-three in a few weeks!

"You'll get over it," she rolled her eyes. "I'm terribly sorry your life is so horrible."

"It's not horrible, Aunt Hermione, but would a House Elf be too much to ask for? My grandparents had four!"

Harry had not always been with her. Until their deaths nearly three years ago, Harry had been raised by Aaron and Maia Potter - his father's parents. Albus had wanted to send Harry to live with his mother's sister after the elder Potters had been killed in an attack, but Hermione had not stood for that. She knew what sort of muggles Vernon and Petunia Dursley were - the worst sort imaginable. "Just be grateful I don't treat you like a House Elf, Harry," his godmother chided. "Now tell me, what did you and Mister Malfoy get up to last evening?"

As Harry rambled on about the antics he and Narcissa's son had gotten up to the night before in muggle London, Hermione pushed aside her thoughts of her recent dream, and thought about how she'd become friends with Aaron and Maia. They'd been older than her, by a little bit - closer to Albus' age than her own, but that hadn't stood in the way. The couple had been pinned down in a duel at their home during the early days of the first war with Voldemort, and had both been injured. She hadn't even supposed to have been there that afternoon, but their son, James, who was mere weeks from turning seventeen, had been put into detention one too many times for her liking, and she'd asked Albus if she could go speak with the Potters about their boy to try and gain some insight on his increasingly erratic behavior.

It wasn't a mission as an Order member, but rather one of a concerned Professor, but in the end her timely arrival had probably saved their lives. Five against two were hardly good odds. Five against three wasn't much better unless the extra person happened to be a Defence Against the Dark Arts expert who used to be a mediwitch, which she was. Maia had invited her to dinner some weeks later, and the three of them formed a bond quickly, remaining dear friends until their deaths. After they'd taken in Harry - Sirius Black having surrendered his rights as godfather while coping with the grief of losing two of his three best friends in one day - they'd named her godmother at once, and she and Harry had adjusted easily, having been a part of each other's lives for as long as he'd lived with his grandparents.

Hermione blinked at a half heard thing Harry had said. "What about Narcissa?" she asked, mind promptly back on her dream, and a life she might have had with the still beautiful witch. Her romantic feelings for the now Mrs. Malfoy had faded over the years to a dull ache of heavy might-have-beens, but the two had avoided one another completely since that afternoon in Hogsmeade. True, they saw each other at functions now and then, but the only thing exchanged at such times was a small smile just like the ones on their faces that day at the cottage. _I still remember_ , it said.

"Draco left some books he needs here last night when he dropped my drunk arse off," Harry said again. "He had to work today, but he sent a patronus saying his mum would be by to pick them up for him. I was asking if I need to be here to hand them off, or if I can go meet Ron, Neville, and Minerva down at the Quidditch pitch."

For the second time in as many minutes, Hermione felt like she'd been kicked in the gut. Narcissa was coming _here_. For the first time in twenty-six _years_ she'd see the first person to steal her heart, and in the same sentence Harry had mentioned the first person to come along in all that time who had the ability to take her heart with the same veracity that Narcissa had all those years ago.

Minerva McGonagall. Harry's best friend.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Okay, as in you'll deal with Draco's mum so I can go get knocked off my broom and die a horrible death?" Harry asked cheekily, knowing damn well how much his godmother hated flying on brooms.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Get out of here, young man. I'm sure I can handle giving Draco's books to his mother."

"But, well… I know I'm not quite as much of a know-it-all as you, but I've been friends with Draco for ages and you've come up with excuse after excuse never to cross paths with his parents. I kinda thought there was some history there you were trying to avoid."

The Defence Professor sighed. "I do have some history with Draco's parents. I will _not_ be telling you about it in any sort of detail, but suffice it to say that I have kept clear of Narcissa at her request. If she is willingly coming to me, then I am more than willing to see her. No, there's no hatchet to bury. Just a bit of history to perhaps put to rest after all this time."

Harry wrinkled his nose. He knew damn well his godmother preferred the fairer sex, and he was smart enough to guess accurately what sort of history might be between her and Narcissa Malfoy. "You couldn't pay me enough to voice my guess on that subject to Draco. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

Hermione tousled a head of black hair and cast him a grateful smile. "Thank you Harry."

"Of course," he said, heading for the door.

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"There is a vial of hangover potion in your coat pocket," she informed him, having put it there last night after he and Draco had stormed in, loudly. She'd not figured the two drunken boys would have remembered to lock the door, and she'd been right to double check.

Harry grinned, obviously thankful, and then he was out the door with his coat in his arms, hand already reaching into the pockets to find the balm for his aching head. Hermione chuckled softly as she made her way to the living room area to find the books Narcissa was coming to pick up, and then settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace to wait.

It wasn't a long wait. It seemed Narcissa was as anxious for this moment as she was, and no more than ten minutes later, there was a soft rap on the door. "Come in," Hermione said softly, meeting the eyes of the blonde woman at the door. "I'd say that it's been _some time_ , but that would be an understatement. You look well, Cissa."

"Well enough," the other woman said with a soft chuckle. "Gods, it has been _some time_ , as you put it. War has a price, and for me that price was the look of youth. You have hardly aged a day, however."

The light flirting was both soothing and hurtful. "Why now, Narcissa?" she asked. "After all these years, why seek me out now?" she asked bluntly.

"To thank you, for watching over Draco," the blonde replied easily. "And because with the war over and Lucius in Azkaban, I'm finally in a place where I can afford to be seen speaking to you. What I've missed the most about you all these years, Hermione, was the friendship we had. I'd like to see if we can find that again, in a world where we can be that much."

"But nothing more?" Hermione questioned. It wasn't that she was pining for more - friendship had been what she missed most of Narcissa as well - but she needed to know where she stood.

"No," the other woman replied sadly. "Even if I wanted more… where once you made a decision to protect me, I decide now to protect Draco. Even though he never took the Dark Mark, never followed his father's dark path, he still carries the Malfoy name and I must stand by him as he works to make that name an honorable one to have. The political fall out of a discovered affair between you and I would certainly undermine that goal."

"I agree," the older witch said, and she did.

"Besides," Narcissa said, taking a seat beside her former love interest, "according to Draco, young Miss McGonagall has her eye on you these days, and as one of the few alive who can claim to know your _type_ , I can safely say that Minerva is certainly that. Even if she is a Gryffindor."

"Tried going for a Slytherin," Hermione quipped. "Didn't work out. Figured I'd try out someone from my own house. Even if I didn't mean to fall for a student. _Again_."

"Glutton for punishment?"

"Must be, to have been the first recruit to the Order of the Phoenix all those years ago," Hermione sighed. "But much like the decision I made regarding you, I cannot pursue this thing with Minerva. I was already too old for you. I'm _much_ too old for her."

"You don't need to pursue her, Hermione," Narcissa said sadly. "She'll come after you, like a Niffler after gold. And unlike me, she won't let you say no."

"That's what I'm afraid of," the brunette admitted sadly, feeling her heart beginning to break all over again.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Well this story seems to be in high demand! I'm glad you all are enjoying this very different look at a Hermione/Minerva ship. Chapter one was entirely Hermione's view on things, and so with chapter two I give you a solid look at young Minerva McGonagall. Cheers!**

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Minerva McGonagall, nearly nineteen years old, was just returning to Hogwarts to complete the final year of her education. She would have been finished last year if not for the war; she and her two closest friends (Harry Potter and Ron Weasley) had been a bit busy heading the student resistance here at Hogwarts. She thought back on the course of the war with a sigh.

It had begun ages ago, before she and her brothers had even been born. Then, on Halloween of 1981, Harry's parents had been attacked by Voldemort himself at their home. His father had been tortured into insanity by the Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange, and still resided at St. Mungo's in their long term care facilities. Harry's family had been targeted because of a prophecy that he'd be the downfall of He-Who-They-Could-Bloody-Well-Name - as Harry's godmother had said - and so Harry himself had been the actual target. His mum, Lily Potter, had stepped in front of the Killing Curse meant for her son, and while she'd died, the curse had rebounded and licked Voldemort good and proper in the same stroke.

After that, the big bad wizard had been gone for years and years, and Harry had gone to live with his dad's parents. Voldemort had come back at the end of their fourth year, at the conclusion of the Triwizard Tournament. A boy a few years ahead of them, Cedric Diggory, had come a mad dash behind Harry in grabbing the Triwizard Cup (which turned out to be a portkey to a creepy graveyard), and considering how close the newly risen Voldemort had come to killing Harry then and there, it was probably a good thing that Diggory hadn't gotten to the cup first. Unlike Harry, the older Hufflepuff didn't have a wand that shared a core with Voldemort's.

By the next year, a lucky getaway the previous summer hadn't really seemed that important when Harry's grandparents were killed in another Death Eater attack. Minerva had no doubt that Voldemort had hoped that getting the Potters out of the picture would leave Harry vulnerable, but he had apparently missed the memo that Harry's godmother was a Hogwarts Professor, and no place was safer than this old castle. Of course, whether or not Harry went with Hermione had been up in the air for a short time. Dumbledore had wanted to send Harry to live with his mum's sister, a muggle, but Hermione was having none of that. Minerva giggled a bit as she remembered witnessing the argument between the now former Headmaster and Professor Granger.

" _Hermione, with Lily's sacrifice, Harry will be safest with his blood kin, with his Aunt," Dumbledore had said._

" _Like hell you're sending Harry to Petunia Dursley, Albus," Hermione had said, voice deadly low. "You have no right to usurp the guardianship his grandparents put into place, and you know damn well how handy I am in a duel. If you try to take him from me, you'll get a very sharp reminder of my abilities. I'll turn you inside out and set you on fire."_

Harry, Ron, and Minerva had all been shocked witnesses to Hermione's threat. The Headmaster evidently took her seriously enough, as his final words before quickly making an exit had been, " _I believe we understand one another. Consider the matter dropped. Good day, Professor, and my sympathy at yourself and Harry's loss."_

So Harry had started living at Hogwarts full time, even though Hermione did have a house elsewhere. Well, two houses. She had a cottage in Hogsmeade that Harry and his friends were at liberty to hang out in during Hogsmeade weekends, and another house in London, very near to the Snapes'. Minerva had decided that the perks of being friends with a guy whose guardian was a Professor, and who had two honorary uncles who were also Professors, certainly had its downsides, but overall it was worth it. If not for anything else, the opportunity to ask Professors Granger, Snape, and Lupin questions about homework over the summers was a major perk so far as she was concerned.

"Min, get your head out of the clouds and get moving!" Ron called out to her, voice echoing against the tiled walls of the girls' locker room by the Quidditch Pitch. She and the boys had opted to play a few games prior to meeting some of their other friends down by the lake. She was a bit noted for getting lost in thought and taking long showers as a result, so Ron's shout had come as little surprise. She cast a quick tempus charm and realized that she'd been in here nearly twenty minutes.

"Coming, Ron!" she shouted back. "Five minutes!"

"More likely ten," she heard Harry grouch, and she imagined that Ron had nodded in agreement, not that she could blame them. Time management was not exactly her strong suit, as her parents had often told her.

Thinking of her parents made Minerva frown. She still technically had both her parents, though her dad was a muggle and her mum had been worried he'd be easy prey for Death Eaters. So Isobel McGonagall had Obliviated her minister of a husband's memories of their life together, their daughter and two sons, and arranged for him to transfer to another Parish, all the way over in America. The war was over now, and her dad was alive, but Robert McGonagall would never return to his family. How did one grieve someone who wasn't really gone?

That had been all done the summer between her sixth year and and would-have-been seventh year, but that next term had been all sorts of topsy-turvy with the war in full swing. Dumbledore had been hunting Horcruxes and left care of the order to Professor Snape, and Professor Flitwick - Charms Professor - had promoted to Headmaster at Dumbledore's retirement. Hermione had become Deputy to Professor Flitwick as a result, though she'd stepped down after the war ended, and Professor Snape had then stepped up. Hermione had no desire to be Headmistress. Snape didn't really seem keen on the idea if being Headmaster himself, but Hermione had basically bullied him into it so she could get _out_ of it.

"Ready," Minerva said breathlessly, stepping out of the locker room. "Six minutes!"

Harry grinned. "Still gonna be late. What were you overthinking this time?"

"Not if we fly," Minerva countered, grabbing her _Nimbus 2001_ from where she'd left it by the Broom Shed. Her Nimbus, along with Ron's broom of the same model, had been a gift from Harry after the Triwizard Tournament. He'd been the winner and thereby got the prize money, but while he'd put some back for a rainy day, and some was given to Fred and George Weasley to help upstart their joke shop, he'd gifted his two best friends with brooms, both having previously had seriously outdated models. "And I was thinking of the war," she answered with a small frown.

"Couldn't think of something less bloody painful?" Ron asked, shoulders slumped, likely thinking of the recent loss of his brother, Bill, along with Bill's wife Fleur. Little Victoire would grow up without her parents, just like Harry had. Also like Harry, Ron's niece would be raised by her grandparents, Arthur and Molly. The Delacours had not approved of their daughter marrying Bill, and had wanted nothing to do with the child she'd had with the eldest Weasley.

Harry sighed. "We all lost people. Family, friends… loved ones."

"I don't know how to deal with my dad being gone," Minerva confessed. "I mean, he's alive and well over in America, but even if i went to see him… he'd not know me so what would be the point? He's gone, but _not_ at the same time."

"Might help if you talk to my godmother," Harry suggested. "She's talked about feeling similar… her parents were both muggles, of course, and with the war back then, she did the same thing to them as your mum did to your dad."

"Not a bad idea, Harry, thanks," Minerva agreed. "Shall we go meet the others then?"

Five minutes later, Ron, Harry, and Minerva - former Keeper, Seeker, and Chaser respectively - were touching down to be greeted by their other friends, and fellow members of the HM. The Hogwarts Militia (or Hermione's Militia, as some of them liked to call it) had formed during their fifth year, when the war had picked up and Hogwarts had fallen under siege just before Christmas that year. None of the students or staff went home for holidays that year, or the next. There had been no getting in and out other than via the help of the House Elves, and while they could have evacuated that way, Hogwarts was a fortress and most parents agreed their kids were safest remaining there.

Death Eaters were attacking everywhere, and members of the Order were dealing with that, trying to defend the general populace, under the leadership of Professor Snape. He was one of the few from Hogwarts who regularly saw the outside world during the nearly three years of siege, going out to manage the Order, and then back in to communicate with Professors Flitwick and Granger. Headmaster Flitwick had managed fourth years and below, focusing on teaching them charms and so forth that would help save lives or defend against attack, and the older students fell under the care of Professor Granger, who trained them to duel. The HM was the reason Hogwarts never fell. It was breached more than a few times, but the older students and the Professors worked together to neutralize incursions.

"Draco, how's the hangover?" Harry asked with a wry grin.

"Cured with coffee," the blond Slytherin replied. "How about you?"

"Hangover Potion, courtesy of my godmother," Harry replied. "Might have been better than an orgasm to drink that down this morning."

"Oi!" Ginny Weasley, Harry's girlfriend, objected.

"Wanking off kind of orgasms," the Potter heir corrected.

"Some of us are not getting laid regularly," Blaise Zabini commented. "Must we talk about shagging?"

Neville Longbottom smirked. "You sound like my mum, Zabini. She freaks any time I even mention Hannah."

Hannah Abbott blushed. "And we haven't even shagged yet. Two weeks of dating..."

"And like three years of dancing around the fact that you were totally into each other," Ginny put in.

"...hardly seems like enough time between first kiss and first shag," Hannah finished, glaring at the younger Gryffindor. "Not that you'd agree, Gin. How many guys did you go through before finally settling on Harry?"

"Fortunately, not enough to have knocked bits with any of you lot," Ginny laughed.

Ron blushed like crazy. "Bloody hell, I'm with Blaise. Can we not talk about shagging? Especially not talk about my sister shagging?"

"Speaking of shagging," Minerva commented, noticing the rest of their group coming. "Here comes the girl of your dreams, Ron."

Ron was desperately in love with Adhara Black - daughter of Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, though he'd yet to work up the nerve to ask her out. As far as he was concerned, she was still too young - only sixteen to his eighteen. They'd get there, eventually, which was more than Minerva could say for herself and her love interest. That was unlikely to _ever_ happen. Not that she wouldn't have a go at trying.

Adhara, along with Luna Lovegood, and Susan and Tiberius Snape, joined the group. Like Minerva, Luna was down a parent and had been since she was nine, and had been a good friend in the last few years, always available to be a shoulder to cry on when Minerva was missing her dad. Susan had also lost her dad, though she'd been too young to remember the death of Oscar Bones. Her mum, Cynthia, had been introduced to Severus Snape by Hermione, and the rest, including the birth of Susan's half brother Tiberius, was history.

The group had been chatting about this and that for a while when they saw Professor Lupin - Transfiguration Professor for eight years despite the post being supposedly cursed - and waved him over.

"What are you lot up to?" the werewolf inquired.

"Who says we're up to anything, Uncle Remus?" Harry asked innocently.

"You're the core of the HM," Professor Lupin laughed. "You are always up to something. Severus, Hermione, and I can personally attest to that, even if the Headmaster tended to turn a blind eye to your antics."

"Given our antics usually involved disposing of Death Eaters," Blaise commented, "can you really blame him for giving us a wide berth?"

"The war is over," Lupin said with a soft smile. "Just be kids, have fun. Pull pranks. Make mayhem. Be…"

"Marauders!" the group finished his usual call to arms. Professor Lupin, when he'd been in school, had been friends with Adhara and Harry's respective fathers, along with another man called Peter Pettigrew (who turned out was a bloody Death Eater) and had formed a school gang in their day called _The Marauders_ , and he liked to pretend that the 'M' in the HM stood for marauders rather than militia.

"How's Teddy?" Ginny asked, inquiring after the Lupins' second born child, now almost six months old, and godson to Harry. His elder sister, Jeanette, was three, and named for Hermione, who had been the driving force to get Lupin to stop pitching a fit over a younger woman being interested in an older partner.

There were only twelve years between them, Minerva thought with a scoff. It's not like there was a forty-four year age gap between them. _That_ would be an improbable match.

"Growing faster than his parents would like," Lupin answered Ginny. "You and Harry want to borrow him and his sister so Dora and I can have a date night?"

"We could probably swing that," Harry answered, a nod of agreement coming from his girlfriend. "Just let us know when."

"Speaking of dates," Draco said with a grin. "We've talked about pretty much everyone's love life but yours, Minerva. Have you got your eye on someone?"

"I'm available!" Blaise remarked pointedly. Everyone knew that Blaise Zabini had his eye on Minerva.

"And she isn't interested in you, ya twit," Ron defended her.

"The question still remains…" Draco reminded.

"No one," Minerva lied, blushing.

"Woah, woah woah!" Harry gasped, catching her reddening cheeks. "I call bull! Who do you like?"

"No one who's going to give me a second glance," Minerva said sourly. "So it doesn't matter."

"What a tosser!" Blaise said dramatically. "Just a crush anyhow, I'd bet, so you'll get over it and I'll be back in the running.

"You've never been _in_ the running," Minerva grumbled. And he wasn't a tosser, Minerva thought ruefully. He wasn't even a he. He was a she, much too old for her. And worst of all, it wasn't a crush, she was in love.

She was in love with her best friend's godmother. She was in love with Hermione Granger.

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